


Big City Life

by Ytterbium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU: Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Castiel, Asexuality, Insomnia, M/M, living in a big city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytterbium/pseuds/Ytterbium
Summary: “You wanna make out?” Dean asks after two more shots and a really dull story from the guy from Gas-N-Sip about something that doesn’t register with Dean because it’s boring as hell.“Asexual”, the guy says, so they end up shooting more tequila instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There will be no sexual activities involving asexual characters (obviously). The title is stolen from Mattafix because apparently I'm unable to write without referencing songs that were In over a decade ago.

It’s four AM. Summer is a vicious, suffocating thing in the city. Too many people, too much noise. Too much heat pooling in the streets, not enough air and no darkness to find sleep in. Dean has always found it more difficult to breathe at day.

The sun will go up in half an hour. Two more and Sam will be here, jumping up and down in front of the door to Deans apartment like the freak he is. Dean’s not sure when exactly he agreed to do morning sports with Sam, if he even agreed or if it was just something Sam picked up one morning after a particularly fuzzy night when Dean was too tired to defend himself. But he will regret this development to the day he dies.

On the street below his window someone blows a horn. Laughter, sounds of an engine, silence. Dean buries his head under the pillow. The pillow has the distinctive smell of a thing that has never been washed. It’s impossible to breathe like this.

He dives back up into the humid air. It’s impossible breathe like this, either.

The fan at the foot of his mattress hums an annoyingly high-pitched melody. Sencor Cooling Applications- where we keep your cool for you. It’s not working, the fan is merely redistributing stale air.

Dean can’t sleep. He’s had insomnia for the better part of a decade now but this is some new-level shit. It’s the weather. Or the blue light that’s gleaming from the giant advertisement on the opposite building into his bedroom. Or the prospect to do morning sport with his ADHS brother. Whatever it is- he can’t sleep.

 

 

He leaves his apartment at 4:15 in shorts and a sweater with the vague idea to buy a new fan.

He goes to the nearest Gas-N-Sip. There’s an old lady in the pet food department who keeps piling cans and cans of dog food into her trolley. Two kids are bugging the girl behind the counter to sell them whiskey. Dean buys himself a bottle just to spite them. In the comic department there’s a guy sitting on the floor, reading. He’s got a bunch of comics scattered around him and he doesn’t look up as Dean makes a show of stepping over them.

In the electronics department there’s no one. The fan shelf is empty except for a hand-written note: _sold out =)_ with a little smiley face at the end. But because nothing’s ever sold out if you know where to look Dean goes on a quest for things that aren’t shelved where they’re supposed to because some asshole customer didn’t think it was their place to bring it back to where it was taken from. It takes him through the food department where he spends quarter an hour leaning over the freezer, past the make-up shelves and back to the comics and there he finds a single box of Sencor Cooling Applications- where we keep your cool for you.   
“I wouldn’t buy that if I were you”, someone says behind him. It’s the guy on the floor.

“I know”, Dean says. “I’ve got one at home, I hate that thing. I’m actually on a quest to find a new one.”

“Can’t sleep?” the guy asks.

“No, why would you think that?”

“Want to get out of here?”

“Your comic no longer transfixing you?”  
“I read that one already.”

“In that case, sure.”

 

 

“Where are we heading?” Dean asks when they’re out of the store and walking down the street.

“I know a place.”

“That’s actually a bit creepy, you know that?”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to”, the guy says, “but it’s 4:30 AM so I figured you’d be up for anything.”

“Right”, Dean says. “You want some whisky?”

“I usually don’t drink in this weather”, the guy says but he takes the bottle nevertheless.

“Me neither. But there were a bunch of fourteen year olds back there trying to buy whisky. I had to.” They end up trading the bottle between them on their walk to wherever they’re going, and by the time the guy stops and says “we’re here” the bottle’s almost empty and Dean drops it at the corner. They’re in front of some stairs that are heading down below ground level, _M_ _oonlight_ _C_ _lub_ is written in blue and yellow letters above the door.

“That’s not shady at all”, Dean says, and they go inside.

 

 

Moonlight club is, of course, a strip club. There are red lights and a hand full of half-naked people and Dean remembers he’s in shorts but it’s five AM so he figures it’s okay. Comic-guy wanders off to the bathroom and Dean talks to a drag king with purple hair about life choices.

“Did you know that transpiration is a uniquely mammal thing?” Comic-guy is back. Dean didn’t know and didn’t care so he buys a round of shots to shut him up. The drag king buys the next round and they start trading stories about urban legends that they claim have actually happened but half of them have to be made up. At some point Eurythmics starts to play, Dean and comic-guy go dancing on the floor and the drag king leaves rather hastily.

“You wanna make out?” Dean asks after two more shots and a really dull story from comic-guy about something that doesn’t register with Dean because it’s boring as hell.

“Asexual”, the guy says, so they end up shooting more tequila instead.

 

 

Dean wakes up in a bed that’s not his own. He’s still wearing his shorts but everything’s sticky and there’s sweat pooling in his neck. Someone is snoring peacefully beside him- the guy from Gas-N-Sip. Dean gets up, finds his sweater and takes a look at his phone. It’s 3 PM and he’s got five missed calls from Sam. “Shit”, Dean says, and comic-guy throws a bottle of water at him, still half asleep. To shut him up or to help him over his hangover, Dean’s not sure, but he drinks the water anyway. “Thanks, man”, he says.

“Coffee”, the guy mumbles.

“What?”

“Coffee”, he repeats. “Kitchen.”

“You want me to make you coffee?” Dean asks, amused.

 

 

The kitchen is a mess. Unmade dishes pile on the counter and in the sink, one glass is covered in something that looks like snow and smells like mold. There is animal hair everywhere, and at one point in the past something very heavy must have been dropped from a great height because there’s a hole in the floor. Dean finds two mugs and a brownish filter with used coffee in it. It’s probably days old. Dean boils up some water and lets it run through the filter, fingers crossed.

 

 

When he gets back comic-guy is sitting upright in his bed, looking about as hung over as Dean feels. “There are things living in your kitchen, I think”, Dean says.

“I know”, comic-guy says. “People keep coming here expecting a party, I don’t know why. I don’t know any of them. But I can’t say no. It’s one of my biggest character flaws.”

“Shame”, Dean says. “Here’s your coffee.”

“Thanks.” Comic-guy takes the mug with shaking hands. He’s worrying his lower lip with his teeth, looking slightly troubled. “You didn’t - We didn’t fuck last night, right?” he asks. He doesn’t look troubled. He looks terrified.

“I never would”, Dean says in earnest.

“Right”, comic-guy says. He’s pale as hell. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it”, Dean says, and they drink their coffees in silence. It’s the best coffee Dean’s ever had.

“That’s the best coffee I’ve ever had”, Dean says when he’s finished.

“You think?” Comic-guy’s lips are curling.

“Damn straight.”

“I keep getting it for christian holidays from my brother in India. I actually think it’s kind of horrible, but I’m too polite to say so.”

“Are you kidding me, that coffee is the stuff dreams are made of.”

“Well you’re welcome to come and drink it all any time.”

“I’ll take you up on that”, Dean says. “But I’d better be going now. I had an appointment to go jogging or whatever with my little brother at six. He’s gonna be furious.”

“Condolences”, comic-guy says. “But you know, you wouldn’t have missed it if you hadn’t bought that fourth round of tequila shots.”

“I don’t remember a fourth round”, Dean admits. “Actually, I don’t remember most of it. Except that it was awesome. What’s your name again?”

“Castiel”, the guy says. “I typed my number in your phone. You can look it up under C.”

 

 

“You _what_ ”, Sam asks over the phone.

“I got carried away”, Dean repeats, heading down the stairs of Castiels apartment.

“Carried away?”

“Carried away.”

“How do you get carried away shopping for a new fan? At four AM?”  
“None of your business”, Dean says, and Sam shuts up.

 

 

There’s a light breeze coming from the river when Dean steps out of the building but aside from that the air is sticky and gross. His headache hits him, and he goes buy aspirin and groceries.

Back home he takes a cold shower, cooks himself pasta and binge watches Game of Thrones, waiting for the sun to go down.

He can’t get to sleep that night. He’s sitting in his window for a long time, looking down on the street where there are two cats fighting a cat-related fight over food territory probably or mating partners, Dean doesn’t know. Well after three he takes off all his clothes, buries his head under the pillow and slowly, slowly drifts off.  
He wakes two hours later to the sound of someone hammering at his door. It’s Sam. He’s already sweating, he probably ran from his apartment three miles over to Deans.

“Dude, it’s five thirty”, Dean says, yawning.

“I thought you were an insomniac”, Sam points out.

“Only at night.”

“Well in any case, sport helps”, Sam says. “Come on, we’re going jogging.”

 

 

Jogging with Sam is its own kind of hell. For one, Sam’s taller than Dean, with longer legs and a longer range and he eats salads with Italian dressing instead of fast food and booze. Also, he’s not an insomniac. He talks while they cross the river, over the park and back into the city, talks about his drug-dealing ex Dean never met who now apparently has got a girlfriend, about their third brother who never calls, about the courses he’s gonna take next semester and what the hell did you do yesterday night? Dean doesn’t answer.

“I’m heading over to Jodie’s after a shower”, Sam says five miles and a lot of pain later. “You wanna join?”

“Can’t”, Dean says. “I was promised coffee.”

 

 

No one answers when Dean rings but the door’s not locked so he lets himself in. Castiel is snoring adorably when Dean wakes him. His first reaction is to start throwing things, his second to hide under the covers.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, irritated.

“You said I could have coffee.”

“Not at eight in the morning!”

“You said any time”, Dean points out.

“I sincerely regret that. What are you doing up, anyway?”

“My brother made me go jogging and do yoga and shit for two hours because of yesterday. You want to go for pancakes?”

“I really don’t”, Cas says but they go anyway.

 

 

“I’ll have four pancakes with marble syrup and a milkshake. For him the same. I’m buying. You’re welcome”, Dean adds when the waiter is gone.

“I’m not thanking you for buying me pancakes I didn’t want to begin with”, Cas says.

“You’re not a morning person, are you?”

“No, why would you think that”, Cas asks dryly, and Dean laughs.

“Funny. You’re funny”, he says. “I like that. So, what’s a nice boy like you doing in an apartment like that?”

“You don’t like my apartment?”

“Buddy, you’ve got a hole in your floor.”

“I like it that way. I grew up in a palace an hour north from here, behind Linkin Park. My family has some kind of incestuous dynasty thing going, don’t ask. I’ve seen enough gold for a lifetime.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“Tell me about it. What about you, do you have any family left?”

“It’s mostly just me and my brother Sam since our dad passed away couple years back. We’ve got another half-brother but he’s down in New Orleans with some really shady guys. I figure the next time we’re gonna hear from him will be from the wrong side of a prison cell.”

“Sorry about that. And your dad. Do you still miss him?”  
“Not particularly. That man went stone-cold crazy.”

“I know the feeling”, Cas says. “My dad used to think he was some kind of god. Still does, probably.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Cross my heart. And not just any god. The actual anglo-saxon christian one, almighty and everything.”

“That’s awful, man”, Dean laughs, and then the pancakes get served.

 

 

After, they go back to Cas’s place because it’s summer and also, Dean has nothing better to do.

Cas disappears into his kitchen and comes back with a cup of coffee in each hand and a guinea pig on his shoulder. Dean raises his eyebrows.

“My guinea pig”, Cas elaborates as if that’s the most natural thing ever. “You probably didn’t see her last time, she likes to hide behind the bonsai in the kitchen. She doesn’t trust new faces.”

“Right. You got anything else I need to know?”

“I don’t think so. Guinea pig, crazy family, asexual, that’s probably it. Oh, I used to be super religious. I actually have a cross tattooed, you don’t want to know where. Also, I study medicine. What about you?”

“I’m an insomniac, for starters”, Dean says. “Sometimes at night I walk for miles and miles and when the sun rises I need a cab to get back to my apartment because I got so lost. I like men, but I like women, too. I major in engineering.”

“I can work with that”, Cas says, smiling. “I don’t think nights were made for sleep, anyway.”

 

 

Dean walks back to his apartment after the sun goes down. It’s still too hot, but the air is changing, shifting, there is a wetness to it that’s fresh and new. It tastes of autumn wind and storms. Dean figures it will come pouring down soon.

 

 

It’s midnight and Dean’s sitting in his bathtub when his phone rings. The display says Castiel.

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas is yelling. There’s music in the background. “You want to-”

Breaking things. Someone is playing what sounds like a tambourine. “There’s a party at my place”, Cas screams. “I don’t know why, I never know why. Or when. It just happens, you know?”

“Sounds terrible.”

“Come over”, Cas yells. “It’s fun.”

Right. He wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway.

 

 

It’s the most violent party Dean’s ever seen.

“These are my friends”, Cas says and points at the people surrounding him. “Meg, Ruby, Balthazar. The person dancing on the table over there is Hannah. They have no self-control. Everybody else, I’ve got no idea. Guys, this is Dean. Winchester, right?”

“Winchester?” Ruby asks before Dean can say something. “You got a brother?”

“Yeah”, Dean says, slightly cornered.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“We used to date”, Ruby says, staring at Dean with uncomfortably dark eyes. “For a while. He told me all about you.”

“Sorry it didn’t work out?” Dean says in lack of something better to say, and that’s when Cas saves him. “Come with me”, he says, touching Deans forearm with his hand and Dean lets him lead him away. “You need a drink”. Cas’s hand is still on Deans arm, and Dean can feel the warmth spreading from that point like a gooey liquid.

“Whisky or beer?”, Cas asks when they get to the kitchen.

“Whisky.”

Cas searches the cupboard for a while, unsuccessfully. “I don’t think I have any whisky. But I have gin?”

“Gin is fine.”

 

 

They climb out to sit on the windowsill, shoulders crammed together. Through the window left ajar the sound of the party behind them trickles out into the night. They trade the gin between them and Dean is stupidly, painfully aware of the way his lips touch the bottleneck when he drinks. He wonders if Cas is, too. He thinks he might not be.

“So”, Dean asks when he’s drunk enough to feel confident. “You aro?”

“What?”

“You told me you were ace. In the strip club. Are you aro, too?”

Cas studies him for a long time. “No”, he says at last. “I’m not.”

“Okay”, Dean says. “I want to ask you something, and you can say no. You want to kiss me? Not making out, just. You know.”

“I would prefer not to”, Cas says, looking pained. And then he leans in and kisses him, his lips touching briefly, barely, just a hint on the corner of Deans mouth before Dean pulls away.

“Now you’ve lost me”, he says, heart in throat.

“That’s usually the point where you ask if you can fuck me”, Cas says, his breath a warm breeze on Deans skin, “and I tell you that you can’t. And then you go off and find someone else, or you come back with booze or dope or ketamine. And we have it your way.”

“Who taught you that?”, Dean asks, angry, and then, “What you’re talking about, what you’re describing here is rape, and I told you before - and please believe me - that _I_ _n_ _ever_ _w_ _ould_.”

“Okay”, Cas says, slowly exhaling. “Okay.”

“Listen, you need to tell me the truth here, man. I need to know how much you’re comfortable with. And if the answer is ‘nothing’ - then that will be how it is.”

“It’s hard- it’s hard to decipher what I do and do not want”, Cas says. “I want to know you. I want to sit on this windowsill for a long time. I want your hands in my hair and on my neck and I don’t want you to leave.”

“We can do that”, Dean says and it sounds like a promise. He reaches for Castiel, involuntarily, but once his fingers touch his wrist he finds that he’s unwilling to let go.

They sit there - while the party behind them slowly, slowly dies, while the night around them starts to lessen and to brighten- they sit there for a long time.


End file.
